What a Waste
by ideasfromthebraintoscreen
Summary: What a waste of a life. Curly Shepard could've been something, gone places and met people if it hadn't been for that no-good older brother of his that he admired so much. Curly wasn't all that dumb he just didn't know how to live, how to enjoy being himself. Now he won't have the chance to figure it out.


What a Waste

I loved Tim. A lot.

He was my big brother, I admired him and every single thing he did. I aspired to be like him one day, if not an exact same replica. But what I always forgot when trying so hard to be him was that I _wasn't_ him. No matter how hard I tried to be I just wasn't like him at all.

Anything he did, any crime he committed I challenged myself to one up him and make him proud of me. I knew he looked at me as his little brother but I wanted a more equal friend-like relationship where he wouldn't find me annoying, instead taking me seriously and really listening to me. But how could he take me seriously when all I ever did was completely fail and cause all hell to break lose? Destruction was always left behind me and a night in jail always lay before me. I didn't have the criminal-like mind that Tim had. He was agile and alert like a cat, never resting; always awake and aware.

And I guess that's why I'm stuck in the situation that I'm in now. I put my guard down and done something Tim would've never have done; I helped someone out.

I thought Bill was a buddy. He totaled his car whilst drag racing and being the good person I am, I jumped up and stupidly offered to get him a car. After all I owed him, he'd gotten me out a few difficult spots, even bailed me out from jail once pretending to be Tim. Not to mention I was sort of scared of him, I mean he was experienced and deadly unforgiving. Next to him I looked even stupider than people already believed. I'm left wondering where and how the hell I'm going to get him a car but I suppose I deserve the grief, that's what I get for opening my big mouth. I can't exactly give the guy a stolen car, can I? That'd get him thrown in jail before he could blink when the fuzz clock him driving around in a reported stolen car.

But as it drew closer to meeting up with Bill and handing over the keys to this amazing car I'd so openly volunteered to bring him I was at a loss for ideas. I had no dough, no connections that were willing to just hand me a car for nothing in return and not one single smart idea. There was only the obvious left; to hotwire a car. Bill probably knew there and then that it was stolen when I rolled up in it, I mean he's no dumbass he's been a JD hood since the day he was born but he kept quiet anyway and it's only now do I realise that that in its self should have been a clear enough warning that shit was to come. Yesterday I found out that'd he'd been caught and jailed, for anyone else getting caught for that small a thing wouldn't be that big a deal but with a record like Bill's and also the added fact that he's wanted in more than two states... well, it's a big deal.

And that's how it spirals back to me. A guy like Bill doesn't forgive. I knew something was coming but I just didn't expect it, not so soon anyway.

I'd just had a few drinks at Buck's when walking home a hand jutted out from nowhere and yanked me into the dark shadows of an alleyway. They caught me off guard and started in on me good, they had the upper hand with the element of surprise. Now that's not to say I didn't get a few good punches of my own thrown in, hell I'm pretty sure I broke the blonde guys nose. The other one was too strong for me to get at. They started to lay in so hard, punch after punch after punch that I was almost tempted to holler for help.

Almost.

But pride kept me silent and I took what I semi-deserved.

Whilst they beat me up I couldn't help but think of what an idiot I've been. Constantly getting myself stuck in sticky situations and hurting everyone around me. God, people must think I'm such a screw up. They must all laugh at me behind my back.

No one dare laughs at Tim I thought bitterly.

The punches and kicks eventually slowed down, I was smarting all over and knew I wouldn't make it home tonight. I just didn't think I wouldn't make it home ever. I stayed down on the concrete as they caught their breaths but I wasn't letting them get away that easily, I still had my pride left if not much else and wanted to leave a mark, a little reminder that I wasn't all that dumb.

I slowly and painfully stood myself up and with what drunken strength I had left, whacked my foot hard in between blondey's legs. His face crumpled immediately, his knees buckled and his hands flew to his crotch. I smiled smugly thinking I was clever that I'd got my two-bit's worth in but I shoulda just stayed on that damned concrete.

The other one with thick bushy eyebrows whoosed his hand towards me. Expecting a simple measly punch I had ducked and there was nothing. But the nothingness only lasted a mere nanosecond before pain exploded from my side. I staggered backwards, stunned and confused. A glance downwards revealed a blade handle jutting out from my side just above my right hip. Blood was flowing freely and fastly, my white t-shirt soaking within seconds. The blonde and thick bushy eyebrow guy fled, shock etched onto their features, we both were aware that it wasn't supposed to go this far. It was just supposed to be a beating, one to teach me not to mess with Bill again.

I collapsed to the ground pain blinding me and my own puddle of blood warming me up.

All I could think of was what a waste of a life. Of _my_ life. I had wasted seventeen years aspiring and wishing to be Tim, never living my own life or accepting myself as I am. I had tried to do something which was impossible; to be somebody else. All my life I'd lived in the shadows of Tim. All my life I'd lived in pure jealousy. All. My. Life. What a waste.

And is it sad that during my last few minutes before dying all I could wonder was; "Would Tim be proud I right-hooked that blonde and broke his nose?"

But he won't be proud. He might even think it's what I deserve for mucking up once again. It's not tuff to die this way, so young, it just shows what a waste you were.

What a sorry sight I must've looked, bleeding to death in a lonely dark alleyway that smell of piss and alcohol. I'm sure when the cops found me they'd have shaken their heads and sighed and thought, "there's another good-for-nothing teenage juvenile delinquent dead and gone" and no sympathy will be given because in their eyes that's all I am; worthless. It's one less hood for them to pick up and bust, less trouble on their side. They won't care at all, they've never cared for greasers, thinking that we're all criminals and they've especially never cared for a Shepard. Tim's to blame for that.

I'm not scared anymore, for dying that is although I do sorta wish Tim was here to hold my hand and calm me down, tell me off for being such an idiot but also console me and hold me close because he's my big brother, I grew up with him, looked up to him and loved him so much. That's one thing that'll never change, the bond we had. And now, even though it's too late to change anything, I finally realise I can never be Tim. I can only ever be me, plain old Curly and that ain't so bad.

Sorry Tim for being that annoying little brother that followed you everywhere and tried to copy your every move, I realise now that I shoulda just focused on myself and appreciated you just as my big brother but at least now you'll have peace because I won't be around to bug you no more.

And slowly I let go. The pain's not there so much anymore but I'm so incredibly cold and happily let my eyelids slide close. The last sight that my youthful eyes see are the twinkling stars high above, dancing around in the depths of the sky. Maybe in another life, if I'm ever given a second chance I'll make something of myself, go places and meet people but from these seventeen years that I've lived through that are just about to end, it's safe to say I've learnt my lesson.


End file.
